MEADE 


L 

PZ 8 
. H55 
L 

Copy 1 


he <jCady Sweetheart 



■ffy ==== = — ' 

ALISON HITCHCOCK 




















LADY SWEETHEART 
and the LITTLE GIRL 


By ALISON HITCHCOCK 



Copyrighted 1915 

BY 

Alison Hitchcock 



flo.i'T 

©Cl. A 40 1738 


JUL 10 1915 

ko, 




CONTENTS 


I The Golden Lacings. 

II The Lamb with the Golden Fleece. 

III In Dreamland. 

IV The Talking Dog. 

V The Prince and the Rose. 

VI The Velvet Leaves. 



The Golden Lacings 

Lady Sweetheart met the little girl at the station 
with a big easy carriage full of cushions and a 
nice soft quilt to make the ride to the house as easy 
as possible. 

The little girl had been hurt in an automobile 
accident four months before and her dear “Daddy 
Doctor” was now sending her to his sister’s lovely 
country home to recover from the operation that had 
been found necessary. 

Now the little girl’s aunt had a real name, but no 
one ever thought of calling her anything but “Lady 
Sweetheart.” She was very fond of the little girl 
and the little girl always loved to visit Lady Sweet- 
heart. 

Why, Lady Sweetheart told the most wonderful 
fairy stories and always knew the most wonderful 
things to play! The two played “make believe” 
most of the time, and, well, there never was a more 
wonderful fairy godmother than Lady Sweetheart. 

So they went straight to the rose-garden and after 
the little girl had been carried ever so carefully 
from the carriage by Timothy, the good-natured 
coachman, and comfortably seated in a big, soft, 
“sleepy hollow” chair, they had the daintiest of 
luncheons served. Martha was the finest cook! My! 
How good those cunning little tarts did taste, and 
5 


those funny little rabbits! Indeed, the little girl had 
the loveliest time playing with them. She found it 
was the hardest thing to play “make believe” and 
eat cookies that tasted so good at the same time, 
but after all, it was such fun! 

By and by, when they had finished eating, the 
little girl begged for a story, and then Lady Sweet- 
heart told this tale of 

THE GOLDEN LACINGS 

Once upon a time there was a very beautiful little 
girl. She lived in a wonderful castle ’way up on 
a high hill. Her father was the king and he was 
very fond of his little daughter and her beauty. 

This little princess Alicia had everything that any 
little girl could ever wish for, and she was always 
very happy and very kind to everybody about her. 

Now there lived in a dark wood not far from the 
palace a very wicked old witch of whom everyone 
was very much afraid. Many brave courtiers had 
tried in vain to destroy her, but they had all been 
overcome by her wicked magic, and were now trans- 
formed into rocks and trees, and even into animals. 

This wicked old woman was greatly disturbed 
when she heard of the goodness and happiness of 
the little princess Alicia, for she hated good people. 
She consulted her wise books and brooded long over 
them trying to find a way to make the princess dis- 
agreeable and unhappy. 

Now an unhappy princess is always disagreeable 
to have around, you know, and, too, it would make 
all the king’s people very miserable to h^ive their 
6 


dear little princess unhappy. You see this terrible old 
woman was never happy unless everyone about her 
was unhappy. 

So the old witch sat before her red fires, and with 
her sharp chin resting on her bony hands, she thought, 
and thought, and thought until her wicked black eyes 
lighted up with fiendish delight at her own very 
wicked idea. 

She danced about her fire and uttered such loud 
and terrible cries that the king and all his court 
believed that they must be having an earthquake. 
Finally, when the witch had finished her terrible song 
and dance, she put together a mixture in her magic 
kettle, and leaving it to cook over her red fires, she 
hurried to the castle. 

When she arrived at the castle she found the prin- 
cess walking in her garden with her beloved nurse. 
Having already changed herself into an eagle, the 
witch flew down and plucked a beakful of Princess 
Alicia’s beautiful golden hair, and leaving the prin- 
cess screaming with fright, she flew back to her own 
wood and her fires. 

When she arrived she very carefully stirred the 
hair into the broth, and after saying some more magic 
words over it, she lifted from the kettle a most beauti- 
ful pair of golden shoe lacings. 

Now the princess had very pretty feet and she 
was a little bit proud of them. She always wore the 
prettiest shoes and slippers anyone ever saw. 

One day as she was out with her nurse she noticed 
a very ragged young girl with a basket of slippers 
on her arm. It was quite a common sight in that 
country to see slipper-venders, as everyone tried to 
7 


wear shoes and slippers that would please the 
princess. 

On the top of the basket lay a pair of gold slippers 
with the most beautiful golden lacings anyone ever 
saw. In fact they were the most beautiful slippers 
the princess had ever seen. The princess quickly 
sent one of her maids to buy them, and as soon as 
they returned to the castle she put them on. 

When the princess had gone the ragged girl 
wandered away to the woods, and once in the shelter 
of the trees she dropped her basket and danced for 
joy; for she was none other than the terrible witch, 
and she had succeeeded in getting the princess to 
wear the golden lacings, not knowing they were be- 
witched. What do you think of that? 

In the meantime they were having a dreadful time 
at the castle. The princess had not had the new slippers 
on five minutes when she became most unhappy. 
No one knew what was the matter. She was cross 
and made everyone about her quite miserable. She 
cried, and cried, and cried all the time, and it made 
her dear people very unhappy to see their sunny little 
princess so strangely and suddenly miserable. But 
nothing could change her back, and so it went on 
for five long unhappy years. The king and queen 
grew old with worry, and the people grew very dis- 
satisfied, and the princess grew unhappier every year. 
It was really quite dreadful. 

Now the witch was partly satisfied, but very greatly 
puzzled, for she had intended the princess to die 
when she wore the slippers, but altho very unhappy, 
the princess lived. The witch could not understand 
it, for everything she had put into the broth was 

8 


wicked and meant to kill. The golden hair was only 
meant to attract attention, and where could a more 
beautiful gold be found than that imprisoned in the 
princess’ own hair? 

The king had sent out heralds announcing that 
whosoever would lift the dark cloud of unhappiness 
from the beautiful princess should have her for his 
bride with one half of the kingdom. If one failed 
however, he must forfeit his freedom and be im- 
prisoned until the princess was again free. 

In another part of the kingdom lived a beautiful 
young hunter and his little five year old brother. 
Now the little brother had golden hair as beautiful 
as that of the princess, and the young hunter was 
so afraid someone would steal his little brother that 
he kept him hidden in the woods and guarded him 
carefully. 

One day as he was traveling through the woods, 
the young hunter met a herald of the king who had 
lost himself in the forest. The young hunter easily 
led him out of the forest, and the herald told him of 
the princess’ calamity, and of the king’s notice. 
The herald began his story with the walk and the 
purchase of the new slippers, saying, 

“The wise men thought it was the slippers, and the 
princess threw them away, all but the lacings. She 
loves them as they are very beautiful.” 

After the herald had gone, the young hunter 
hurried home to his little brother and told him the 
astonishing tale. 

The little brother thought about it a long time, and 
then he said, 

“Big Brother, do you really think my hair is the 
9 


most beautiful gold in the world?” and the young 
hunter answered, 

‘‘Yes, it is the most wonderful gold I ever saw.” 

Finally the little brother spoke again and said, 

‘‘Brother, you must cut off all my beautiful curls 
and make them into the most beautiful lacings you 
ever saw; then you must take them to the princess.” 

The young hunter was delighted with this idea, 
for although he hated to cut off his little brother’s 
beautiful curls, he knew they would all grow again. 
So very soon all the beautiful curls were made up 
into the most wonderful lacings you ever saw. You 
see these had no wicked thoughts mixed with them. 
Only nice lovely thoughts about the beautiful flowers 
such as the little brother thought; and strong, brave, 
protecting thoughts such as the young hunter had 
for his little brother and his princess. So of course 
they were really much more beautiful than the lac- 
ings the princess already wore, and that were causing 
such a lot of trouble. 

So, leaving the little brother with his fairy god- 
mother, the young hunter took the lacings and went 
to the castle to see the princess. 

The king and queen were very sorry when they 
saw how handsome and good the young hunter was. 
They were sure, since so many had failed, there was 
little hope that he would succeed in making their 
princess happy again. 

He told the king and queen about the lacings, and 
they were greatly surprised, for no one had ever 
suspected them. 

That night, while the princess slept, the young 
hunter stole the golden lacings from her room and 

10 


put in their place the new lacings. In the morning 
the princess put on and wore the lacings not know- 
ing they were different, exclaiming, 

“Why, my lacings grow more beautiful! It makes 
me so happy to look at them!” 

And indeed, the princess was always happy after 
that, and all the court were happy. The young 
hunter married the beautiful princess, and his little 
brother lived with them, and they were all happy 
ever after. 

The young hunter took the witch’s lacings back 
to her, and while she was asleep he tied them into her 
shoes so tightly that she could never get them out. 
She was so wicked that the wicked thoughts in the 
lacings did not hurt her; but the beautiful golden 
hair of the really good princess made her conscience 
worry her greatly, and after a while she died of 
unhappiness. 


11 


11 


The Lamb with the Golden Fleece 


The Little Girl had been with Lady Sweetheart for 
almost a month, and the sweet, clear, country air 
had already brought a faint pink into the Little Girl’s 
cheeks. Why, she felt so much better that when 
“Daddy Doctor” came to see how she was, he thought 
(just thought mind you!) that she might walk from 
the house to the rose garden in another week! 

Timothy heard them talking it over and suggested 
that although the Little Girl couldn’t walk, he could 
hitch Black Nell into the big, soft carriage and drive 
her over to the pine grove where she could see the 
sheep. 

When the Little Girl heard this she cried right out, 
“Oh you happy, happy man! You always think 
of something that makes me, oh so happy!” 

And she was right. Timothy loved the Little Girl 
and wanted her to be well and strong, so he thought 
of things that would make her happy. He quite 
earned the name of “Happy Man” because he was 
always happy in doing lovely things for her. 

When they were all safely over in the grove and 
the Little Girl had exclaimed over the sheep to her 
heart’s content. Lady Sweetheart asked, 

“Did you ever hear the story of The Lamb with 
the Golden Fleece?” 


12 


The Little Girl had not, and so this is what Lady 
Sweetheart told: 

Once upon a time there lived a little boy whose 
mother had died and left him alone. His cruel step- 
father used to beat him often, and give him very 
little to eat and make him work very hard. 

One day he told the boy to go over to the farthest 
corner of the farm and mow all the grass on the 
“stumpy lot.” Now there was enough to keep three 
men at work all the morning on that stumpy lot so 
of course the little boy could not do very much on 
it. His scythe was very large and heavy and he 
could scarcely swing it; and besides, he was in con- 
stant danger of cutting his poor bare legs. All day 
he worked under the hot sun, but when he went back 
at night, alas, there was only a small corner of the 
field that had been done. He was a brave boy and 
walked straight up to his father and said, 

“Father, I have worked all day long just as hard 
as I could, and still I have only cut a very small 
corner of the stumpy field. I am very sorry, but I 
have done my best.” 

Then his father flew into a great rage and seizing 
the boy by his shoulder he shook him so that his 
teeth rattled in his head. 

“You’re a miserable, lazy, good-for-nothing brat, 
and I will have you around no longer. Get out of 
my sight and let me never see your face again.” 
And so saying, he pushed the boy out of the door 
and down the steps, slamming the door together 
behind him and locking it tight. 

Poor little fellow! What was he to do and where 
13 


was he to go? He was very tired after his long 
day’s work, and very hungry as well as he had had 
nothing to eat since morning. But he knew it would 
be of no use to go back, and besides he did not love 
his stepfather, nor did he dare to face his displeasure 
again. So he wiped away the tears which would 
come in spite of himself, and wandered down the 
road saying under his breath, 

“Oh, if my mother had lived! or if some good 
fairy would help me!” 

He wandered slowly along until the soft twilight 
had faded into dark, and the stars looked down and 
saw only a tired and sad little boy walking alone on 
that country road. Soon he became so tired and 
sleepy that he lay down under a tree beside a 
stream and tried to go to sleep. But the pangs of 
hunger were too much for him and he was soon 
sobbing aloud. Suddenly he looked up, and beside 
him in the darkness stood a pure white lamb whose 
fleece shone so that it could be plainly seen in the 
shadow. The boy put out his hand and stroked the 
lamb softly, patting its head gently, and saying, 

“Oh, you lovely little lamb! How I have wanted a 
lamb of my own. I wish I could keep you.” 

The lamb rubbed its nose against the boy’s face. 
“But I cannot because I have been turned out of 
my father’s house, and I have no place even to lay 
my head, nor a mouthful of food to give you.” 

“Baa-baa,” said the lamb; and suddenly there rose 
from the earth a little table spread with the daintiest 
and most appetizing supper you ever saw. It did not 
need any further invitation for the little boy to help 
14 


himself to the good things spread before him. When 
he had finished, the lamb said, 

“Baa-baa,” and the table disappeared. The lamb 
lay down beside the boy and he pillowed his head 
on the soft shining fleece. In a moment more he was 
sound asleep and knew nothing again until morning. 
When he awoke the sun was shining over a beautiful 
country. He ran down to the stream and washed his 
face and hands in the clear, sparkling water. Then 
he combed his hair with the little comb which he 
always carried in his pocket, and saw by the reflec- 
tion of his face in the mirror that he looked as neat 
and fresh as he used to when his mother made him 
ready to go to church. 

He noticed something else, too, and that was that 
the scant and ragged clothing which he had on the 
night before had suddenly become clean and whole, 
and that he looked better than for many months. He 
also realized that the tired feeling which had so 
oppressed him for weeks was gone, and that 
he felt singularly hopeful and happy. 

When he came back to the lamb under the tree, 
the ground opened and a little table came up all 
set with the most delicious breakfast rolls, and a pat 
of sweet nice butter, with a nicely browned omelet, 
and a glass of rich, creamy milk. There were straw- 
berries with cream and sugar, and a bunch of 
delicious grapes, and a plate of honey, and other 
lovely things too numerous to mention. You can 
just imagine how this little boy, so hungry and so 
neglected only the day before, enjoyed this delightful 
repast. 


15 


When he had finished, he jumped to his feet and 
exclaimed, 

“Now my good lamb, we must go on somewhere. 
I do not know where, nor to what country we shall 
come, but we can’t stay here. Oh dear, I wish I 
knew what to do!” 

“Baa-baa,” said the lamb, and somehow, as the table 
disappeared in the ground again our little boy knew 
that the lamb wanted him to get on its back. And 
so he threw one leg over the lamb’s back and clasped 
his hand in the warm, soft fleece. Off they went, 
and although it would seem to us that the boy’s 
weight would prove too much for the lamb, strange 
to say, it did not mind it in the least. And, although 
they did not seem to be hurrying, yet they got over 
the ground with surprising rapidity and covered 
many miles that day. 

After another night spent by a beautiful river 
when he was fed in the same strange fashion and 
slept with his head pillowed in the lamb’s soft sides, 
the boy noticed that they were approaching a mag- 
nificient castle. He did not try to guide the lamb 
at all, but let it go just where it pleased; and soon 
he found that they were inside the castle walls, and that 
although plenty of menials were about, none of them 
seemed disposed to stop the lamb, or to prevent his 
going wherever he chose. Very soon the king him- 
self, for the little boy perceived that he wore a 
crown on his handsome grey head, stepped out to 
the porch to get a breath of the fresh morning air. 

“Who are you, and what do you want here?” he 
demanded in such a tone that the boy’s heart sank 
almost to his boots. 


16 


“If you please, sir, I am a poor boy who has no 
friends, and who has been turned out by a cruel step- 
father to starve.’* 

The king laughed. “You’re a cry-baby I’m afraid,’’ 
he said, “and we do not have ninnies around this 
kingdom. I will give you three tasks to do, and if 
you do not accomplish them faithfully and well, I 
shall send you into slavery.’’ 

Now this was worse than anything the cruel step- 
father had done. But the boy plucked up courage 
to say, 

“Very well, sir, I will try.” 

“The first thing,” said the king, “that you will 
have to do is this; look away to the farthest horizon. 
Do you see there a tall pine tree?” 

The boy looked. 

“Yes, sir,” he said feebly. 

“In the top of that tree is an eagle’s nest. I want 
it here before three o’clock this afternoon. You must 
bring it”; and the king turned away with no further 
remarks. 

The poor boy’s heart then sank to his very toes. 
How was he to reach that tree which was certainly 
more than ten miles away, and get an eagle’s nest 
from the very top and get back before dinner? Just 
then he felt something soft rub again his hand and 
knew what to do. He walked beside the lamb until 
they were outside the castle walls, and then he 
threw himself across the lamb’s back. First he 
noticed, however, that on the lamb’s little hoofs were 
small, very peculiar little boots which had not been 
there before. He soon found that these partook of 
the nature of the seven league boots of which he 
17 


had read in an old fairy book. For with these on, 
the lamb made such wonderful progress that in less 
than an hour he had dismounted at the foot of the 
tall tree. He looked up; yes, there was the nest in 
the very top. 

There was something else too. A queer little old 
man was letting down a rope ladder which soon 
reached the ground, whereupon the lamb placed his 
two front feet upon it and held it firm. It was the 
work of only a moment for the boy to run up the 
ladder to the nest in which he found two young 
eaglets. A few moments later he had detached the 
nest and was carrying it down the ladder to seat 
himself with it on the lamb's back. Then the ladder 
was swiftly rolled up out of sight, and the boy found 
himself hastening across the intervening country. 

The bells were chiming the hour of eleven when 
they went again into the castle yard and asked to 
see the king. A few minutes later the king himself 
appeared, and a very astonished king he was too, 
when he beheld the eagle’s nest with the downy little 
eaglets in it, and realized how wonderfully quick 
the boy had been. But he was very chary of praise 
and only said, 

“You have done fairly well, and now you may 
take your second task. You see that field across the 
way. Every stone in it must be removed before six 
o’clock to-night and the ground carefully smoothed, 
or off you go into slavery.’’ And again the king 
turned on his heel and went back into the castle. 

Down, down went the boy’s heart to his heels 
again, but here came a soft touch of the lamb’s nose 
against his hand and he felt better. Together they 
18 


set off to the field which was covered with great 
heavy stones, many of which were even too large 
for a man to lift. When they had reached it the boy 
paused a moment, wondering how whe would ever 
be able to accomplish this task. He turned to the 
lamb and said, 

“I need your help more than ever, for I can see 
no way to clear this field.” 

Then the lamb lifted his voice and said again, 
‘‘Baa-baa-baa, ” three times. The little table suddenly 
arose beside the boy and he realized that he was to 
eat his luncheon before he began his task. When he 
had finished, he looked up at the field once more, and 
behold, all the stones were gone and the field had 
been raked off smooth and clean. 

‘‘You’re a good lamb,” he said, bending to kiss 
the little creature. ‘‘I shall always love you and do 
just as you say.” 

Then they went back to the castle, and the boy 
sent word to the king asking him to please look out 
at the field; but the servant reported that the king 
was busy. The boy waited a few moments, and then 
walked into the castle himself, passed the liveried 
lackeys and right into the king’s private apartments. 

‘‘Please, sir,” he said, ‘‘won’t you just look across 
at the field?” 

‘‘Ah ha,” cried the king, ‘‘that was too much for 
you, wasn’t it? Now off you go into slavery.” He 
rang a bell to call a servant to tell him to carry the 
boy off and send him away. 

‘‘Oh, please, sir, please, sir,” cried the boy now 
thoroughly frightened, ‘‘do not send me away, only 
look across at the field, sir.” 

19 


The king who was really a very good-natured man, 
in spite of his imposing crown, looked across at the 
field and beheld with amazement how smooth and 
beautiful it was. So he made some other errand for 
the servant and then turned to the boy. 

“Very well indeed,” he said, “but do not imagine 
you are out of the woods yet. What is this lamb in 
here for? It is against the rules to bring animals 
into the castle.” 

“Oh please, dear, Your Majesty, do not send him 
away,” cried the boy. “This is the only friend I 
have on earth.” And so the king relented and went 
on with his remarks. 

“Thirty miles to the south, in a straight line, you 
will find a lake in the heart of a wood. Three miles 
out in that lake is an island on which stands on old 
stone castle. Shut up in that is my beautiful Golden 
Hair, who has been stolen by my enemy and is now 
held for ransom. You may have until six o’clock 
to-morrow morning to restore her to me.” And the 
king again turned on his heel and left the boy. 

Of course this was a great deal the hardest task 
of all, but the boy’s heart by this time had become 
somewhat accustomed to the impossible, and so it did 
not quite reach his boots. He merely put his hand 
on the lamb’s head, and together they went down 
and out into the court yard and set off for the un- 
known lake. With the same little boots on as before, 
the lamb made rapid progress and it was not long 
before they had found the lake and could see the 
island in the distance. 

“But how shall we get across there?” asked the 
boy. 


20 


Just then a boat was rowed by an old man around 
the point and up to them. The boy and the lamb 
stepping in they were soon on their way to the 
island, making the same speed across the water as 
they had on land. But as they neared the island, the 
boy saw eighteen fully armed soldiers standing guard 
in front of the castle. The old man, however, seemed 
to know why they had come, and so he went around 
the point of the island and drew up in an out-of-the- 
way cove at the back. The boy felt no fear in his 
heart, but jumped with the lamb onto the bright 
green sward and started for the castle. 

Then the lamb spoke. 

“Not quite so fast, Master,” he said. How strange 
it seemed for the little boy to be addressed as 
“Master.” “Just you lie down under this tree and 
take a little nap.” 

The boy thought this very strange, but he suddenly 
felt very drowsy, ancT lying down under a beautiful 
beech tree, he enjoyed a few moments of invigorating 
sleep, then he was awakened by the soft touch of 
the lamb’s nose upon his face. He started up and 
the lamb led the way to the front of the castle. 
There lay the eighteen soldiers all fast asleep. Look- 
ing up to an upper window he saw the most beautiful 
maiden he had ever beheld. She was very fair with 
beautiful golden locks. She was dressed all in white 
with lovely blue ribbons and was smiling with glee 
as she looked down at him. 

“You have come to deliver me,” she cried. “Oh 
do not delay a moment longer, but take me away 
from this dreadful place.” 

Then he saw that the same little old man whom 
21 


he had left at the old pine tree was at this window, 
and that the fairy ladder was being let down to him. 
Again the lamb placed his front feet on the ladder 
while the boy sped up, and seizing the beautiful 
maiden in his arms, ran down quickly to the boat. 
In another moment they were all rowing back to the 
wooded shore, leaving the soldiers still sound asleep. 

We may as well say here that they did not awake 
until the next morning, when after getting their own 
breakfast they sent one of their number up with a 
tray for Golden Hair. When they found her gone, 
and after a long search became convinced that she 
had been spirited away, they were so much frightened, 
and so dreaded their own king’s anger and the punish- 
ment which they knew he would inflict upon them, 
that they all ran down to the lake and drowned them- 
selves. 

Meanwhile, the boy with the maiden and the lamb 
appeared at the castle gates just as the sun was 
setting and the king returning from a drive in his 
gorgeous gilded coach. When his majesty looked out 
and beheld His lovely daughter standing beside the 
noble lad who had rescued her, he was quite over- 
come by his gratitude and affection. He jumped from 
the carriage and clasped her in his arms while she 
covered his face with kisses. 

“You have done three wonderful deeds in one 
day,” he said to the boy. “From this time you shall 
dwell in the castle and shall have the best tutors to 
fit you for the life of a ruler, for I shall make you 
a prince and when the proper time comes you shall 
wed my Golden Hair and succeed to my kingdom.” 

And so it was that they lived happily ever $fter, 

22 


III. 


In Dreamland 

The Little Girl had had a nap and when Lady 
Sweetheart came to her, she said she had had such 
funny dreams, and still she couldn’t remember what 
they were all about. 

Then Lady Sweetheart laughed and offered to tell 
her what Daisy Nobody dreamed. Now the Little Girl 
and Lady Sweetheart often played “make believe,” 
and they had a “make believe” family of “Nobodys” 
for “make believe” neighbors, so of course, the Little 
Girl was glad to hear what “Daisy Nobody” dreamed. 
So this is what Lady Sweetheart told. 

It was a very hot day and after dinner Daisy went 
into her little blue room and lay down on the tiny 
white bed. What with her long walk in the morning 
and the hearty dinner she had eaten, she felt very 
tired, and do what she would, there seeemed to be 
a heavy weight on her eyelids pulling them together. 

The boys were down in the backyard constructing 
a wonderful new boat which she fondly hoped 
to see Araminta sailing out in some day, and Carrie 
was at play with the baby in the library. Daisy could 
hear their voices and they sounded very far off, as 
if they were children that lived a mile away, for 
the afternoon was a hot one, as I told you, and so 
still that I have little hesitancy in saying you could 
33 


hear children playing a mile away — if they only 
made noise enough. 

“Let’s make her a three-master,” she heard Harry 
say down in the yard. 

“An’ that was how Brer Rabbit came ter be 
schemy an’ lazy, an’ willin’ ter lib off’n turrer 
people,” floated dreamily through her mind, and 
she fell to wondering, in a very sleepy and stupid 
fashion how Brer Rabbit looked in those days. 
She couldn’t believe he was so small as he is now, 
or so mild and inoffensive in appearance. Somehow 
she believed he walked on his hind legs, and carried 
a gold-headed cane. Though what he would want of 
a gold-headed cane in a brier-patch, or where he 
would get it for that matter, I don’t believe she ex- 
plained to herself. 

However, she didn’t have to wait long to know 
just how he looked. 

Suddenly she found herself down at the lower end 
of the orchard. She didn’t pretend to know how 
she got there, but it didn’t matter as long as she 
was there and under very unusual circumstances. 
She was looking down on the ground beside the 
stone-wall, and behold, there was a great hole! 

Not that there was anything peculiar about her 
seeing the hole, but all at once there came, — yes, it 
was really he! — Brer Rabbit, walking upright and 
carrying, not a cane, but a walking-stick made of 
sweet-brier. Daisy was glad that Paul wasn’t there, 
for she felt sure that he would have made some in- 
opportune remark about “chappies,” and as Brer 
Rabbit seemed a very nice sort of a gentleman in- 
24 


deed, she naturally wished to treat him with the 
utmost courtesy. 

“Good morning, little girl,” said Brer Rabbit with 
great condenscension, “I am quite glad to see you in 
these parts. I am sure you mean well. Will you walk 
into my burrow?” 

It seemed very strange, standing there face to 
face with Brer Rabbit, and stranger yet to hear him 
speak without using the negro dialect. Somehow, 
from Uncle Remus’s book, she had got the idea that 
he couldn’t talk good English. 

“I see what you think,” Brer Rabbit said, “you 
supposed I talked like certain colored people who 
live in the South. Now if your cook were to tell 
a story about you, she would talk Irish, would she 
not, and she would make your own words sound that 
way, wouldn’t she? Well, does that prove that you 
talk with a brogue? Therefore, because your negro 
friends have been kind enough to preserve the tradi- 
tions of the Rabbit family for some millions of gener- 
ations of Rabbits, does it follow that we must use 
their dialect? Is that fair? Come, now?” 

Daisy saw that Brer Rabbit was getting quite 
heated and she hastened to assure him that he spoke 
beautiful English — the best she had ever heard out- 
side of books. Whereupon, Brer Rabbit took off his 
cocked hat (it was exactly like the pictures of those 
General Washington used to wear), made a profound 
bow, and repeated his invitation to walk in. 

The entrance seemed a great deal longer than at 
first, and Daisy noted with some surprise that Brer 
Rabbit was a head taller (standing on his long hind 
legs) than she was. But she was very anxious to see 
25 


the inside of a burrow, so she accepted the present 
opportunity, though not without a little trembly feel- 
ing inside. 

“I shall be delighted,” observed Brer Rabbit, ‘‘to 
introduce you to my mother. Queen Rabbit, and 
also to my numerous brothers and sisters. Entrez.” 

Daisy was very much surprised to hear Brer Rabbit 
use a French word. In fact, she was greatly im- 
pressed by it. Brer Rabbit must be a very learned 
as well as a very gentlemanly, prince. Why, yes, of 
course, if his mother was a queen, he would be a 
prince, wouldn’t he? 

He stepped aside to usher her into the long pass- 
age way and she noticed for the first time the exquis- 
ite draperies that hung about the entrance. They 
were made of silver lace, and so filmy that a breath 
would, it seemed to her, blow them quite away. 

‘‘Pardon me,” she said, remembering that it 
wasn’t “manners” to stop when you are entering a 
house for the first time to examine the furniture or 
the hangings. “But they are so very beautiful, and 
I have never seen anything like them.” 

“Yes, they are rather neat,” Brer Rabbit answered 
carelessly. “Brer Spider and his family made them. 
He is quite a specialist in his line. Since you are 
such an observing young lady, I will call your atten- 
tion, en passant” — (another French word! Daisy 
caught her breath and pinched herself) — “to the 
carving all along the entrance hall. We call that 
rather good.” (He pronounced it “rawther,” and 
drawled the word in a most fascinating way. He 
must have been born in Boston). 

“That is different from anything I ever S2*w,” 
26 


timidly observed Daisy, for Brer Rabbit seemed more 
and more elegant all the time, “and finer.” 

“Oh, I das-say,” Brer Rabbit asserted loftily. 
“That is done by the Grub family. We do not give 
them any preliminary title, so to speak, you know. 
They are rather a low family, but useful.” 

“Just grub along, I suppose.” Daisy was much 
alarmed when she let those words slip out. She 
hardly dared to joke with so elegant a personage as 
Brer Rabbit. 

But he only lifted a very large and very glisten- 
ing eyeglass and surveyed her carefully for a moment. 
Then a feeble smile played about his somewhat large 
front teeth and he answered: 

“Yes, we let them pretty much alone as far as 
any particular footing is concerned, until they ad- 
vance a stage or two. In other words, we let them 
beetle they are more developed.” 

Now that seemed such a good joke to Daisy, after 
the half-minute it took her to remember that grubs 
did develop into beetles, that she was obliged to 
lean up against the wall and laugh. But Brer Rabbit 
stalked along, very dignified and apparently uncon- 
scious that he had made a pun. So she was obliged 
to follow or get lost. 

The entrance hall seemed very long and nearly 
as crooked, it seemed to her, as the “Maze” that 
Paul had once got lost in at the beach. But after a 
while she saw a glimmer of pale light, which soon 
became brighter, and then she found herself in the 
midst of a large company of rabbits. Brer Rabbit 
paid no attention to any of them except to remark 
37 


occasionally as one of them happened to lean over 
his way, 

“Out of the way! Don’t you see we have a guest? 
Where’s the queen?’’ 

Daisy wondered if she was to say “quite a rabble 
here’’ if it would be a pun. But she dared not say 
anything with so many pink eyes fixed upon her, and 
besides, there wasn’t time, for suddenly she was 
standing before a very queer throne and making a 
bow to a very large, very fat, and very ugly old 
rabbit. 

“This is the Queen, Marguerita” (Daisy wondered 
how he knew she had been christened that), “and 
this, mother, is one of the children who occasionally 
wander in here from Dreamland. I thought you would 
be glad to see her.” 

“Certainly,” answered the mother rabbit and she 
reached out a shriveled and shrunken paw that was 
quite out of proportion with her fat body, for Daisy 
to shake. “I shall be glad to have you remain down 
here for a week and make us a little visit. Children, 
go to work and burrow out a nest for our guest from 
Dreamland.” 

A dozen or more of the smaller rabbits (not Brer 
Rabbit, he was too elegant), rushed away into a 
corner and began to burrow a new hole, although 
it seemed to Daisy the room was lined with tunnels 
now. 

“These are all my children!” said the Queen, “they 
will all help make things pleasant for you. I would 
introduce each one separately only there are so many 
of them, and besides I always forget their names, 
or mix them up. Take a seat.” 


Daisy, who had been standing very much be- 
wildered, now seated herself on a large cabbage. 

“Not there, not there,” cried the Queen in alarm. 
“That’s for supper. Sit here beside me,” and she 
made a place for the little girl on the edge of the 
throne. 

Brer Rabbit seated himself on his own haunches 
and sucked his cane, while he stared at her through 
his large pink eyes. 

“You have very dark eyes,” he soon remarked to 
Daisy. “Why are your eyes not pink?” 

Daisy could not answer that question. It had really 
never occurred to her before. 

“I suppose,” said Brer Rabbit, “that being a 
daisy, you couldn’t be a pink, too.” 

And then he fell to sucking the end of his cane 
in a way that made Daisy wonder if he was “studyin’ 
topper somp’n.” 

He evidently was, for he proposed after a few 
minutes that she go to walk with him. 

“Let’s look around the neighborhood a little,” he 
said. “We have excellent company here. We’ll in- 
vite in some of them for a little hop to-night.” 

“I should think a hop in a rabbit house would 
be a remarkable event,” Daisy ventured, turning to 
Queen Rabbit who was languidly waving a fan 
made of the wing of a butterfly. “On the contrary, 
quite the reverse,” was the reply. “Prince will you 
deliver the invitations, and take her with you? I 
must cut the cabbage and shred the bushes for 
supper. Don’t loiter now.” 

So they started off, but not till Daisy had dis- 
covered how this underground burrow was lighted. 

29 


She had been wondering how it could be so light 
in a house several feet under the earth, and she had 
been studying out the method. It didn’t take very 
long. Those queer looking lanterns, twinkling all 
over the top of the burrow, — what were they? At 
first, she thought they were a new kind of electric 
light; and perhaps they were, who knows? But Daisy 
soon saw, much to her amazement, that they were 
nothing more nor less than a thousand or two fire- 
flies! 

“Let us see,” meditated Brer Rabbit as he parted 
the cobweb draperies at a side door to let Daisy 
through, “We must ask Brer Woodchuck of course, 
though his manners are not always agreeable.” 

“I was always afraid of woodchucks,” Daisy 
objected. 

“0, his bark is worse than his bite,” said Brer 
Rabbit, “infinitely, for he never had a bite. Then 
there is the Chipmunk family; there’ll be a row if 
we don’t invite them.” 

“They are so pretty,” Daisy exclaimed. “Do have 
them.” 

“Conceited,” Brer Rabbit did not try to conceal 
his contempt. “Brer Chipmunk is a perfect cad. 
Brer Mole,” he went on counting over his proposed 
guests, “and his cousins, Brer Mouse and Brer Rat.” 

“0, dear!” Daisy could not help speaking. The 
idea of being possibly obliged to dance with a mouse 
— it made her shiver. 

“0, they’re a good family,” said Brer Rabbit, “not 
in very good odor perhaps, on account of certain 
long tales about them, but a very good family. Trace 
their ancestry back to Noah’s ark.” 

30 


“Was Noah their father?” Daisy questioned inno- 
cently. 

“Farther back than that,” was the reply, “and 
Brer Wasp, he’ll have to come.” 

“Oh, no!” said Daisy, “he’ll sting!” 

“0, there’s no harm in a wasp if you do not 
ruffle his temper, and more than in a hornet if you 
do not step on his tail,” Brer Rabbit said. 

“Are you going to ask Brer Hornet, too?” inquired 
Daisy. 

“We shall have to,” was the reply. “We all know 
better than to slight him. He would treat us with 
stinging contempt, if we did.” 

“I’m afraid he will anyway,” said the little girl, 
“for I am sure I shall step on him. My feet are so 
large, you know.” 

But as she glanced down on them, she noticed that 
they had, with the rest of her body, grown smaller. 
“Just like Alice in Wonderland,” she said to her- 
self. 

“Why, how little they are!” she exclaimed, “and 
I, too, I must be smaller than I was when I was first 
born.” 

“Well, there’s nothing like being able to adapt 
one’s self to circumstances. If you were the giant 
you used to be, you could hardly get into the burrow, 
you know,” was Brer Rabbit’s reply. “Now let me 
see, are there any more? 0, yes, Brer Grasshopper. 
A hop would hardly be complete, you know, with- 
out a grasshopper. But here we are at Brer Mouse’s. 
Let’s begin here.” 

It was a very tiny underground house they stopped 
at now, and Daisy felt herself shrinking to still 
31 


smaller proportions as they waited on the doorstep 
for somebody to answer Brer Rabbit’s knock. 

“Don’t be alarmed,” he said, noticing the look on 
her face. “It’s only because you’re adapting your- 
self. You couldn’t get in, you know, otherwise,” and 
then the door opened and Brer Rabbit was courtesy- 
ing elaborately to Mrs. Mouse, and introducing “Miss 
Marguerita from Dreamland, in whose honor we give 
a hop to-night.” 

And then that funny Mrs. Mouse urged them to 
come in, which they did. Daisy couldn’t help admir- 
ing Mrs. Mouse, she was so pretty. She was slender, 
but not too slender; sleek, but not too sleek; her 
eyes were bright and her beautiful satin gown was 
the daintiest, softest thing she had ever seen. Daisy 
shook the proffered paw with great friendliness. 

“We were just sitting down to supper,” said Mrs. 
Mouse, “walk right in and eat with us.” 

To Daisy’s surprise Brer Rabbit accepted the invi- 
tation, and at once. She did not know that there 
are no limitations to a rabbit’s appetite. So they 
took seats around Mrs. Mouse’s daintily appointed 
table. There was quite a variety of food; crumbs 
of cake, rinds of cheese, plenty of bread and half 
a doughnut. Daisy laughed to herself as she remem- 
bered how little a crumb seemed to her in times 
gone by, and how large it was now. Why, a crumb 
of cake to-night was as much to her as a whole slice 
at home! 

“We have some excellent cheese,” remarked Brer 
Mouse (to whom Daisy had, of course, been intro- 
duced). I got it fresh, myself, this afternoon in the 
32 


back pantry of the place they call the ‘Nobody 
house’.** 

Daisy stared and wondered if he knew she was 
Daisy Nobody, but evidently he didn’t for he went 
on. 

“Came near getting caught, too! Not in the trap, 
oh no! Catch me in a trap set with old dried-up 
cheese rind, if you can, or any other trap, for that 
matter. It is only very young and very conceited 
people who get caught in them. But the horrid 
cat! The worst-looking, greenest-eyed monster that 
ever was in league with a mouse trap!” 

Daisy could hardly contain herself. Her lovely, 
gentle, sweet-tempered pussy! 

“It is very strange, the natural antipathy between 
the Mouse family and the Cat family,” observed 
Brer Rabbit, leaning back and picking his teeth with 
a horse-hair, “I can hardly understand it. I now have 
no such pusillaminous fear. I consider the cat — at a 
safe distance, and far enough away — quite a majestic 
and beautiful being. When in a poetical mood, I 
confess I have sometimes courted their muse. Their 
categorical virtues are at least as many as their 
faults, so you should always put in a saving clause 
in favor of their musical gifts. There are many 
tales about the Cat family, and in their favor, 
although I admit it would be serious catastrophe to 
be caught by one of them.” 

“Pause,” commanded Brer Mouse, “I will hear no 
catalogue of their virtues at this table. Wifie, cut up 
the doughnut — also from the pantry of the Nobody 
house,” he added, bowing to his guest. 

Mrs. Mouse did as she was bid, and Brer Rabbit, 
33 


who seemed in quite a moralizing mood, began again. 

“The rise and fall of the doughnut, I sing its 
praise.*’ 

“I didn’t know the Rabbit family could sing,” 
said Daisy, speaking for the first time. 

Brer Rabbit put up his eyeglass and looked at 
her until she blushed violently. Then he went on, 

“The basis of the doughnut is the same as that 
of the musical scale — do!” 

But before he could continue in his discourse, 
there was a noise at the front door, and in walked 
Brer Rat, followed by Brer Mole and Brer Grass- 
hopper. They were warmly welcomed and did not 
wait to be asked, but took chairs and drew right up 
to the festive board. The doughnut was cut up into 
still smaller pieces and passed ’round, and the cheese 
followed it, and then there was a great smacking of 
lips and Brer Mouse declared that anything from the 
Nobody house pantry would taste good — even if it 
were nothing more than a rusty nail from the wall. 
And Daisy secretly determined that no measures 
should ever be taken in her house to exclude mice 
from the pantry. 

“We are to have a hop at our house to-night,” 
said Brer Rabbit, as soon as there was ever a chance, 
“and I want you all to come.” 

You should have seen them then! 

Brer Mole uttered a series of tiny O’s; Brer Rat 
lifted his tail straight up in the air where it went 
through with some of the most extraordinary gyra- 
tions Daisy had ever seen, while Brer Grasshopper 
stood up on his curiously jointed hind legs, and seiz- 
34 


ing her from her chair, waltzed about the room 
several times to the tune of 

“Grasshopper Gray, Grasshopper Gray, 

Give me some honey to-day, I pray.” 

When the excitement had cooled down somewhat. 
Brer Grasshopper said, 

“Don’t you want Cousin Cricket to come? He 
arrived last night for the fall season.” 

“Of course,” was Brer Rabbit’s answer, “tell him 
to come and bring his fiddle. Well, Miss Marguerita, 
it is time we were going, or we shan’t get home 
before the guests arrive. There are other invitations 
yet, you know.” 

So Daisy shook hands with each one present and 
started to follow Brer Rabbit to the door. But, alas! 
She tripped on Brer Rat’s long tail and fell flat. That 
gentleman turned to pick her up, and was polite 
enough to say — although she could see that his tail 
writhed with pain — 

“0, don’t apologize, I beg of you. I could a tale 
unfold of a thousand things worse than that,” and 
then he gallantly handed her out the door. 

Outside, Brer Rabbit offered her his arm, which 
she felt obliged to take, and he was looking at her 
with deep admiration in his whole countenance when 
suddenly, who should whisk around the corner but 
Brer Chipmunk. 

“0, you, is it!” Brer Rabbit said, and he didn’t 
seem any too glad to see the squirrel. “I may as 
well ask you right here then. Look at me, please.” 
For Brer Chipmung was staring hard at Daisy, his 
very tail quivering with admiration. 

35 


His bright, beady eyes turned quickly towards 
Brer Rabbit, however, and that gentleman went on, 

“Brer Chipmunk, Miss Marguerita. We are to have 
a hop to-night in honor of our guest. You will, of 
course, be there.” 

The invitation was not a very cordial one, and 
evidently Brer Chipmunk did not regard it so, for he 
hesitated before replying. 

“0, do come!” Daisy could not help saying. Daisy 
had always loved squirrels. 

“With the utmost pleasure,” responded Brer Chip- 
munk quickly. But Daisy saw that she had offended 
Brer Rabbit, for he took out his eyeglass and re- 
garded her with quite a vexed air for what seemed 
a very long time. Then he drew her arm through his 
again. 

“We must hasten,” he said with his most dignified 
air “Be kind enough, please, to notify Brer Wood- 
chuck, as that will save us a long walk.” 

“I shall be delighted, I am sure,” the squirrel 
murmured, still gazing at Daisy. 

And then they walked on until they came to a 
large paper house. It was very handsome, Daisy 
thought, and she inquired who lived there. 

“Brer Wasp and a thousand or two of his children,” 
was the answer. “There he is now, standing just out- 
side the door.” 

And then Daisy found herself being introduced to 
Brer Wasp. He did not offer to shake hands, for 
which she was very thankful; but he welcomed her 
quite cordially, and she noted with surprise how hand- 
some he was and how elegantly dressed. 

“Won’t you walk into my parlor?” he asked, and 
36 


Daisy tried to remember where she had heard that 
remark before. 

But Brer Rabbit answered that they hadn’t a 
moment’s time and delivered his invitation. 

“And be kind enough,’’ added Brer Rabbit, “to 
leave your sting at home. You see this young lady 
is a stranger under ground, and is terribly afraid of 
sharp weapons. And I pass you my word of honor, 
you will have no need of your stiletto.” 

“Then I will gladly leave it behind,” Brer Wasp 
replied with much elegance and precision, “for if I 
carried it, somebody might steal it, — Oh!” 

Brer Rabbit paid no attention to this wretched 
pun, but Daisy smiled so sweetly on Brer Wasp that 
he fell in love with her on the spot. 

And then they started to go on and find Brer 
Hornet, but good luck was in their favor this time, 
for they met Brer Hornet just outside the door, and 
Brer Rabbit delivered his message without any parley. 
(To tell the truth, he was a little afraid of Brer 
Hornet, himself), and he added the request to leave 
the sting at home. 

“I may want it,” Brer Hornet grimly replied. “If 
Brer Chipmunk flirts his tail in that provoking way 
he has, I just know I shall get mad.” 

“0, please don’t,” put in Daisy, “they won’t, I 
am sure, and it would spoil all the fun if one ex- 
pected to get stung every minute. I always was 
afraid of a hornet’s tail.” 

“A little wholesome fear hurts no one,” Brer 
Hornet answered, as grim as ever. But Daisy looked 
so pleading and so sweet-tempered withal, that he 
softened and promised to do as she wanted, 

37 


“Only don’t let them give me any sauce,’’ he said 
to Brer Rabbit, “for I won’t take it, that’s all.” 

“I’ll pledge you my word, there shan’t be a bit of 
sauce there,” Brer Rabbit answered. “If you insist 
upon it, I will even go so far as to promise that 
there shall be no refreshments at all.” 

“0, no, I don’t ask that,” Brer Hornet hastened 
to say; and then they turned back and went home 
to the burrow. 

“Well,” said Brer Rabbit, as they opened the door 
to his burrow, “it’s just as I expected. Here they 
are, before us. I don’t know though, but it is time 
to begin,” and he pulled out the most beautiful 
Waterbury watch Daisy had ever seen, and looked 
at it, and then added, “High time.” 

“Yes,” spoke up Brer Mouse, who had overheard 
the remark, “we expect a high time. Indeed, if I 
may be permitted the expression — a high old time!” 

Daisy glanced around the burrow and saw that 
everybody was there except Brer Chipmunk, and was 
a little disappointed, although she told herself it 
was early yet. And she noticed a very elegant gentle- 
man in the glossiest black satin suit she had ever 
seen, with a fiddle under one arm, and recognized 
him as Brer Cricket. 

Presently he began to scrape on the fiddle with 
his fingers (you must know that he had several sets 
of these), and Brer Rabbit cried out, 

“Time to begin. Choose pardners.” 

And then there was a great hustling around among 
the guests and the numerous brothers and sisters of 
Brer Rabbit. 

Old Queen Rabbit was there, of course, and e^- 
38 


pected, it was quite plain to see, that Brer Wood- 
chuck would take her out to dance; but instead of 
that, he walked straight over to Daisy and, although 
nobody had introduced him, astonished her by crook- 
ing his front leg at her and saying, 

“Allow me the pleasure, madam, of leading you 
thro’ the Minuet.” 

“I beg your pardon,” said Brer Rabbit, crowding 
in between them, and speaking in a very polite, but 
very determined voice, “of course I shall take her. 
She is my guest.” 

But Brer Woodchuck, although he was old enough 
to know better, being fully as grey as her Grandpa 
Nobody, pushed Brer Rabbit away, and said, 

“I asked her first; she is mine.” 

Daisy was dreadfully frightened and felt sure there 
was going to be a quarrel, and very likely there 
would have been, only for Queen Rabbit. She pushed 
her way into the group, and seizing Brer Wood- 
chuck’s proffered front leg, whisked him out into the 
middle of the room in a trice. And Daisy heard her 
say, 

“A pretty thing, you are! At your time of life, 
too! As though a queen were not good enough. 
Humph! There’s many a one present to-night who 
would feel honored — ” 

But Daisy heard no more, for Brer Rabbit took 
her arm and they walked off to the opposite corner, 
and the minuet was beginning. 

Brer Cricket played what seemed to her a very 
monotonous air on his queer little ebony fiddle, and 
she wondered how they were ever going to waltz if 
fie couldn’t play any faster than that. But she found 
39 


that the music suited the stately minuet very nicely, 
and although this tune had no great range, it seemed 
to please the guests very well. 

“Now play the Portland Fancy,” said Brer Rabbit, 
when the minuet was over. And Brer Cricket struck 
up what seemed to her to be exactly the same tune, 
but nobody noticed it and Daisy soon found herself 
skipping out the Portland Fancy with Brer Hornet. 

That quick tempered gentleman seemed in a very 
good humor and proved to be a very agile dancer. 
And finally Daisy ventured to say, 

“You see they are all behaving beautifully. 1 
knew they would and we are having a bee - youtiful 
time.” 

“Never count on a good time till it’s over,” Brer 
Hornet sagely observed, and then the Portland Fancy 
was over and he had to escort her to a seat. 

“Now the Virginia Reel,” called Brer Rabbit. 

And Brer Cricket started on the same tune again, 
and Daisy was led away by Brer Mouse. 

When the reel was over. Brer Rabbit shouted out, 

“Now, the Daisy Waltz!” 

And then he turned to invite his guest to waltz 
with him. But Brer Chipmunk, who had arrived dur- 
ing the performance of the Virginia Reel, had got 
the start of him, so she was obliged to say, 

“I am already engaged, I thank you.” 

But she noticed that Brer Rabbit was quite put 
out about it, so she added, 

“I am very sorry,” and he went away comforted. 

“Are you sorry?” asked Brer squirrel, drawing 
back. 


40 


“Only for him,” Daisy hastened to say, “I am glad 
for myself.” 

So Brer Chipmunk took her by the hand and 
gallantly led her out into the floor, waving his bushy 
tail like a great plume over his head. 

He looked very handsome dressed in that lovely 
suit of reddish brown with a soft fleecy shirt front, 
and those beautiful stripes down his back. And 
as for his tail, words fail to describe how exquisitely 
he had done it up for the occasion. It is no wonder 
that Daisy admired him. 

Brer Cricket’s fiddle was drawing out exactly the 
same tune for the Daisy Waltz that it had for all the 
other pieces. But it was perfectly easy, surprising 
as it may seem, to waltz to it. And Daisy had never 
enjoyed anything as she did this waltz with the 
elegant and fascinating Brer Chipmunk. And when 
it v/as over, he led her away to a corner where no 
one was sitting, and asked her to be seated. 

“I have a declaration to make,” he began when 
she was seated, “one which has long burned in my 
bosom. I love you. I have loved you ever since my 
eyes first beheld your sweet face!” 

“But that was only just after luncheon,” faltered 
Daisy, blushing, for she liked that squirrel — she knew 
she did. 

“Don’t you know,” he answered impatiently, “that 
there are circumstances under which an hour may 
be an eternity? The question before the house— or 
this corner of it anyway — is: Will you marry me?” 

“It is so sudden,” faltered Daisy again. 

“Not more sudden than I whisked round that 
corner and beheld you leaning on that cunning, sly, 
41 


deceitful, miserable, no ’count Brer Rabbit’s arm,” 
was the reply. “And I have been in love with you 
ever since. Say yes.” 

“Yes,” murmured Daisy, — just as they do in 
novels. 

“Then let’s elope now,” but Brer Chipmunk could 
say no more, for there close beside them, hearing 
every word they said, stood Brer Rabbit himself. 

How Daisy blushed, and how angrily the squirrel 
flirted his tail! 

“She is my guest,” began Brer Rabbit. “I claim 
the privilege of her hand.” 

“But she has promised to be mine,” observed Brer 
Chipmunk with both triumph and spirit. 

“I can’t help that,” was Brer Rabbit’s reply, 
wagging his head. “She is my guest and under my 
protection. Besides, she is a little girl and of course 
doesn’t know her own mind — any more than she will 
when she gets to be a woman. Consequently she is 
mine.” 

“As if so fine a girl as that would throw herself 
away on so lazy a creature as you! retorted Brer 
Chipmunk. “She would look well, wouldn’t she, 
fetching and carrying for you? I tell you, I am her 
choice.” 

“She is my guest,” persisted Brer Rabbit, “and 
is mine already by all good rights. Besides, when 
she accepted you, she didn’t know she could marry 
me. That of course frees her.” 

This logic rather staggered poor Brer Chipmunk. 
He looked at Daisy. 

“Which is it?” he asked earnestly. 

“Please, sir, you,” Daisy answered timidly. She 

42 


did hate a quarrel, and she couldn’t think of a word 
to say to pacify Brer Rabbit. 

“But only think, you’d be a princess,’’ said Brer 
Rabbit, “and mother will die before long, and then 
you’ll be a Queen.” 

That was a temptation. 

“But you’ll have to live on cabbage and lettuce,” 
Brer Chipmunk put in, “and worse than that, you’ll 
have to steal them from the Nobody house garden 
for him.” 

“As for that matter,” it was Brer Rat who spoke 
now. He had stolen up to them some time before, 
but had been entirely unnoticed until now. “She 
can marry me. I am a widower with only twenty-nine 
children at home now. I do the stealing myself, and 
I am thinking that food from the Nobody house 
pantry and cellar will be more to her taste. I am 
a good looking rat, and whenever she grew home- 
sick, could always furnish her with a long and 
interesting tale to amuse herself with — besides — ” 

“0, go away,” was Brer Rabbit’s reply. “No 
decent girl would marry you. Come, Miss Marguerita, 
you settle it. Which one of us are you going to 
marry?” 

“Why, I had already promised Brer Chipmunk 
when you came up with us,” she answered, “and I 
cannot tell a lie.” 

“She cannot tell a lie,” whispered Brer Rabbit to 
Brer Rat. 

“She cannot tell a lie,” whispered Brer Rat to 
Brer Chipmunk. 

“She cannot tell a lie,” shouted Brer Chipmunk, 
dancing ’round the room like a mad-man, 

43 


“Then,” began Brer Rabbit in a most lacka- 
daisical tone, “I challenge you to a duel!” 

“And I accept the challenge,” promptly replied 
Brer Chipmunk. And Daisy knew by the way his 
tail rose and swelled to mighty proportions, that he 
was not in the least afraid. But she was, and her 
fear quite overcame her. 

She was anrgy, too, so angry that she felt herself 
swelling with rage, and became conscious that she was 
getting back to her former size. And then her courage 
began to rise, and seizing the squirrel she squeezed 
him up close to her and said, right before them all, 

“Come, you dear little teetsy-weetsy thing. I am 
going straight home and take you with me. We 
won’t stay in this nasty hole with these horrid things 
another minute, so there!” 

And then she felt some one shaking her arm, 
and her brother said, 

“Come, you’ve slept long enough, Daisy. We’re 
going over to Bessie’s to eat ice cream. Wake up 
and come along.” 

And she sat up on the bed rubbing her eyes very 
hard and laughing when she realized what she had 
been doing. 

“There, Paul,” she said, “I wished I could dream 
something as funny as you did, and I have — funnier.” 

And Paul when he heard the dream, agreed that 
it really was “most as funny.” 

“What do you think?” and Lady Sweetheart turned 
to the little girl. 

“I think it was very funny, and I want to hear 
Paul Nobody’s dream to-morrow, Lady Sweetheart.” 
And Lady Sweetheart promised to tell it. 

U 


IV 


The Talking Dog 

It was several days before the Little Girl and Lady 
Sweetheart had time for another story. The “happy 
man” had caught a young crow, and the Little Girl 
spent most of her time watching the funny antics, 
and listening to his strange discordant calls. The 
crow, however, soon learned to fly and returned to 
the woods. 

They were cosily settled one day on the wide 
piazza, when the Little Girl suddenly remembered the 
promise to hear Paul Nobody’s dream. She reminded 
Lady Sweetheart, and true to her word, this is what 
Lady Sweetheart told: 

Paul was left to amuse himself one morning the 
best way he could. So he wandered out into the big 
orchard, which was at one side of the house, and 
called Rex, the big Newfoundland dog. 

Paul lay down on the grass and looked up through 
the quivering apple boughs into the blue sky above 
him. It was very still. 

Paul didn’t understand the language of whispering 
leaves and twittering birds any better than older 
people do, but he felt the quiet influence of the 
summer morning stealing over him and talked softly 
to Rex. 

“Beautiful, splendid old fellow,” said he, lying 
there on his back. “It’s mean you can’t talk.” 

45 


Rex looked very wise and waved his bushy tail 
majestically to and fro. 

“You know more ’n Timothy does,” continued 
Paul. “You know as much as papa and more ’n 
the baby. You know more ’n everybody else — ’cept 
mamma and me.” 

Rex sat down and thumped his tail against the 
apple tree trunk behind him in cheerful acquiescence. 

“You know more ’n the president!” finally an- 
nounced Paul, as a climax. 

Rex offered no opposition to this rather positive 
statement and Paul relapsed into silence, thinking 
what fine brown eyes the dog had, and how nice it 
would be if he could talk with the other children. 
He grew very drowsy after a little. Paul turned his 
head. 

There leaning over the fence stood a most dis- 
reputable looking figure staring straight at him. 

The ugly face, however, was lighted by a smile 
that attempted to be good natured, so Paul was not 
afraid. 

“Lie down, Rex,” he said, “keep still.” 

“So ye want the dorg to talk, eh?” said the tramp. 

“Yes,” answered Paul. 

“Wal, now, look ’ere,” pursued the strange visitor, 
“I’ve tramped five miles this morning without any 
breakfast or dinner. I’ve got the toothache, the head- 
ache an’ the stomach ache.” 

“Poor man,” murmured Paul. Toothache or head- 
ache could hardly appeal to Paul’s sympathies, but 
stomach ache — dear me ! Paul guessed he knew what 
that was. 

“Now,” continued the tramp, “if you could 
46 


man- 


age to slip into the pantry an’ bring out some meat 
an’ milk an’ some bread, an’ whatever else comes 
handy, I’ll make your dog talk.” 

‘‘Honest Injun?” inquired Paul. 

‘‘Honest Injun,” returned the tramp. 

“But dogs never talk,” said Paul with a sudden 
feeling of distrust. “Nobody can make ’em.” 

“That’s where ye’re mistakened then,” insisted the 
tramp, “anybody could that knows how.” 

The temptation was great. It would be so nice to 
have a talking dog! 

Paul went and in a few minutes came back fairly 
loaded down with food. There was a whole loaf 
of newly baked bread, a large piece of boiled leg 
of mutton, an apple pie, a custard pie, a jelly cake, 
and heaps of doughnuts. 

“There!” he said to the tramp. “I guess there is 
breakfast enough to cure all the toothache and things 
in the world.” 

“Couldn’t ye git no strawberries, or some pre- 
serves?” demanded the tramp, after looking over the 
viands. 

“No,” said Paul, somewhat taken aback by the 
greediness of his visitor, “Mamma keeps such things 
locked up. There’s so many of us you know.” 

The tramp sat down on the fence and began to 
eat, while Paul looked on in wondering awe. Surely 
toothache and headache and stomachache never com- 
bined to produce such an appetite before. 

Paul had seen hungry people eat. He had been, 
in fact generally was, dreadfully hungry himself, but 
he sat speechless with astonishment to see the food 
disappear within the grim jaws of this tramp. 

47 


“Didn’t ye never see nobody eat before?’’ demanded 
the tramp after he had eaten all the bread and all 
the mutton and had begun on the apple pie. 

“No, not like that,” frankly replied Paul, ‘‘not 
even Rex when he’s been somewhere all day and 
didn’t have any dinner.” 

‘‘You don’t give me the best of the mutton and 
whole custard pies,” remarked a voice at his side. 

Paul turned around. 

Rex sat there smiling a most sarcastic smile. 

‘‘You only give me gristly pieces nobody else can 
eat, and the bones to gnaw,” he continued. 

“Can you talk?” gasped Paul. 

“Sure, Mike.” Rex uttered this favorite expres- 
sion of Paul’s, which his mamma had so often tried 
to make him leave off, with an air of exceeding self- 
satisfaction. Then he tipped back his great head 
and laughed loud and long. 

“That was the bargain, wasn’t it?” asked the 
tramp as he swallowed the last morsel of custard 
pie. “I’m no beggar. A bargain’s a bargain, and I 
alius pays for my grub.” 

Then he finished his repast by putting the few 
remaining doughnuts in his ragged pockets. 

“Wal, good-bye,” he said. “I’ve got to go. I’ve 
a business engagement ten miles away from here to- 
night. Ta-ta.” 

And with a low chuckle and protruding pockets, 
he got down from the fence and shuffled off up the 
road. 

“0, Rex,” exclaimed Paul, “isn’t it nice that you 
can talk?” 

“Ain’t it great, though?” said Rex with another 
48 


harsh peal of laughter. Paul wished his voice wasn’t 
quite so coarse; but then, it won’t do to be too par- 
ticular if you’re going to have a talking dog. 

He didn’t like so much slang, either, and he was 
about to tell Rex so. But again he remembered how 
many times the dog had heard him use it, and re- 
flected that he probably had taught it to Rex him- 
self. So, of course, he couldn’t say a word. 

“Yes,” said Paul in more subdued tones than 
than usual, “I’m so glad. Now we can have fine 
times together. What will the other children say?” 

“0, let the others slide,” said Rex. 

Paul blushed violently. How many times he had 
felt like saying that. 

“You bet we’ll just paint the town red,” persisted 
Rex. 

Worse and worse I If this was the way that dog 
was going to talk, Paul felt he must get him out of 
hearing from the house. 

“Come, let’s go down to the brook and play,” 
he proposed. 

“And go in swimming?” asked Rex. “That’s what 
gets my goat on a hot day.” 

Paul followed the great, bounding dog somewhat 
doubtfully. 

They had a delightful time at the brook for a 
while, and then Paul proposed that Rex go into 
the deep water after a stick. 

“0, no,” remarked the dog. “I used to do that. 
But now I can talk, I’m as good as you are. I’m 
not carrying sticks ’round for fellows not half as 
big as I am any longer. But I’ll throw sticks and 
you may go after them.” 


49 


“I don’t want to,” objected Paul, “the water is 
too cold and I can’t swim.” 

“But I want you to,” said Rex, with sudden de- 
cision. “Come, go along in, or I’ll push you in, as 
you did Harry the other day.” 

Paul remembered. The vision of his brother as 
he came up out of the water all dripping and tearful 
and frightened didn’t appear to be so funny either. 
Some things don’t, you know, when you come to 
think them over afterwards. 

“Here’s a good stick,” said Rex, hurling a piece 
of shingle out into the deepest part of the brook. 
“Go, now,” and he gave vent to a peculiar whistle 
that Paul recognized very well. 

Paul knew in his inmost heart that what was fair 
for Harry, was fair for him, so he boldly waded 
into the water. But he didn’t like it all the same, 
and pretty soon when he got to the deepest part, 
his foot slipped and he fell. 

Rex rushed in and pulled him out in a hurry, but 
he laughed at him and called him a “cry-baby” in 
just the same tone he, himself had used to Harry. 

“Well, let’s not play this any more,” said Rex 
good-naturedly, “let’s go to the house and play 
horse. I’ll sit in the wagon this time, and you can 
draw me ’round. How many times I’ve rushed into 
awful cold water for you, or drawn the wagon ’round 
in the hot sun when I was just dog-tired. Well, 
the boot is on the other leg, the four-leg this time, 
it seems.” 

Paul couldn’t say another word, but he did wish 
he had been a trifle more considerate sometimes. 

Like hundreds of boys Paul had a kind heart and 
50 


was fond of his brothers and sisters as well as of his 
pets; but like other boys, he was sometimes thought- 
less, not stopping to think how much discomfort 
to other people his own selfish pleasure might cause. 

So he followed Rex meekly enough up to the 
carriage house and got out the gay little express 
wagon, expecting all the time that some of the family 
would see and speak to him. Nobody did, how- 
ever, although if they had, there would have been 
great fun at the Nobody’s house, for he did look 
queer dragging that great dog about in a wagon 
two sizes too small for him. The wonder is that the 
wagon wasn’t broken. 

At last the supper bell rang and Paul dropped the 
tongue and started to run in. He was so glad no 
one had seen him. 

“Not so fast, young man,’’ called out Rex. “You 
know the rule about putting up the wagon as well 
as I do. Come, take care of it, I can’t.” 

0 dear! Was there very much fun in owning a 
talking dog after all? 

Paul obeyed, but very reluctantly; and then the 
dog followed him in to supper. 

“Mamma,” said Paul, as they gathered about the 
table, “only think, Rex can talk, and we’ve been 
having such fun all the afternoon, haven’t we, 
old fellow?” 

“You bet,” croaked Rex, in his most disagreeable 
voice, especially when you went into the water after 
that stick and tumbled down. Ha, ha, ha! Harry, 
you are even with him now. How funny you looked, 
Paul, coming to the house in your wet clothes! But 
your exercise in the open air, drawing me round in 
51 


the cart, you know, has dried off your clothes, so 
you’re all right now.” 

Mrs. Nobody looked at the dog in astonishment. 
At the last words they all turned and looked at Paul. 

“Paul Nobody!” exclaimed his mother. “What 
have you been doing?” 

“Playing,” meekly answered Paul. 

“And that new shirt waist,” she said, “how did 
you manage to get it in that condition?” 

“0, he’s been playing dog all the morning,” said 
Rex. 

“Go upstairs this instant, Paul,” and before she 
could finish, Ellen came in. 

“They ain’t no meat, missis,” she said, “that cold 
leg o’ mutton I was depending on for supper is gone.” 

“What?” inquired Mrs. Nobody. 

“Gone, platter and all,” said Ellen, “an’ there’s 
nothin’ left of all my big bakin’ this mornin’ except 
bread.” 

All eyes were directed again towards Paul. It is 
a strange and significant fact that when sudden 
famine descends upon a house, the small boys of a 
family are held responsible for it. 

Paul grew very red in the face, but he did not 
attempt to say anything. 

“Paul did it,” came from the corner where Rex’s 
tail was thumping the floor with great unction. 

“And the new apple pie is gone,” remarked Ellen, 
“and the custard pie, too.” 

“Paul,” said Rex, and the thumps grew louder 
and more expressive. 

“Well, I made a jelly cake,” put in Aunt Nell, 
“let’s have that.” 


52 


“That’s missin’, mum,” said Ellen, “plate an all 
is gone.” 

“You’ll find ’em in the orchard,” came in Rex’s 
dreadful voice and with a lively tail-accompaniment. 

“Well, give us some doughnuts and cheese,” said 
Mr. Nobody, who had been laughing too heartily to 
enter into the conversation before. 

“Every blissed doughnut is gone,” burst forth the 
exasperated Ellen, “an’ even one of the loaves of 
new bread.” 

“Paul, what does this mean?” asked his father. 

“He fed ’em to a tramp,” came from the hateful 
dog in gleeful tones, as if he delighted in Paul’s 
misery. “Gracious, how he ate!” 

“Rex, keep quiet,” said Mrs. Nobody. “My dear, 
we can’t keep a dog that uses such positively dread- 
ful language. Before the children, too!” 

“Paul learnt ’em to me,” pleaded Rex. “He uses 
lots of slang when you ain’t ’round.” 

Paul began to cry. How dreadful it was to have 
a talking dog! And there he sat thumping his tail 
harder than ever. 

“Paul, come upstairs with me,” said Mr. Nobody, 
now entirely out of patience. 

“He, he, he!” came from the corner. 

Paul got up to go. 

“Go right into the bathroom,” said his father. 

Paul knew well what that meant, and he burst 
forth into fresh weeping, while all the other children 
joined Rex in laughing at him. 

“Come, Paul, haven’t you slept long enough?” said 
Daisy’s voice close to his ear, “It’s after four o’clock.” 
“Opening his eyes, Paul saw the waving apple 
U 


branches above and glimpses of blue sky between. 
A big robin was perched on a lower limb, and it was 
only a dream after all.” 

* * * * 

‘‘0, I think that was nice,” said the Little Girl, ‘‘I 
rather like the Nobody’s.” 


U 


V 


The Prince and the Rose 

Lady Sweetheart had been showing the Little Girl 
some of her pretty jewels. The Little Girl had fallen 
quite in love with a very beautiful diamond pin, and 
Lady Sweetheart told her it was called a rose- 
diamond. Then from her endless supply of lovely 
stories, she told the Little Girl this story of 

THE PRINCE AND THE ROSE. 

A handsome young prince was out on his favorite 
horse one day, and he was thinking so hard that he 
allowed his horse to walk slowly along. Suddenly, 
at a turn in the path, they came to a wild rose-bush, 
and the daintiest, pinkest, wild rose the prince had 
ever seen bloomed right in the path. 

The prince loved flowers, so not wishing to crush 
this lovely rose, he turned his horse to the edge of 
the path and left the rose untouched by the horse’s 
hoof. The prince looked back to admire it and, much 
to his surprise, the rose swayed on its slender stalk 
and nodded thanks to him. 

Now while the prince was away from the palace, 
a very wicked king had come and seized it, imprison- 
ing the prince’s father and mother — the real king 
and queen. Of course the prince knew nothing of 
this and in time he started back to the palace, 

55 


When he came to the wild rose again he found, 
much to his surprise, that the rosebush had grown 
to be so thick that he could not get through. After 
trying for some time to part the branches, he started 
to go around it, and behold, the bush seemed to 
almost run to get in front of him and bar the way. 

Finally, letting his horse go, the prince attempted 
to break right through the centre of the rose bush. 
As he pushed his way through, a branch tripped him, 
and he fell and lay unconscious under the protection 
of the bush. 

This seemed very fortunate, for very soon after 
the wicked king passed by searching everywhere for 
the prince, but again the branches barred the way, 
and this time the king drew back in a rage with 
many thorns scratching him. 

After the wicked king had gone on, the prince 
came to himself and found the dear little pink rose 
nodding against his cheek. Rousing himself, the 
prince caught his horse and started again for the 
palace, but a thorned branch would now so disturb 
his horse that the horse could go only in one direc- 
tion — away from the palace. Then the prince decided 
to let the horse take his own way, and he was soon 
hurrying away toward a neighboring kingdom. 

Upon arriving at the court of this neighboring 
country, the prince told of his fall and also of the 
action of the rose-bush in preventing his return home. 
The neighbor king immediately sent a herald to the 
palace of the prince to discover if there was any 
danger for the prince. 

While the herald journeyed, the prince slept and 
all through his dreams he felt the soft caresses of 
56 


the little wild rose in the wood, soothing and cheer- 
ing him. 

When the herald returned, he told of the capture 
of the palace and the imprisonment of the king and 
queen. He also said that he had seen in a window 
a very beautiful princess, with eyes like forget-me- 
nots and hair like the night. She had called to the 
herald, but was quickly stifled by a lady-in-waiting 
(with a silken scarf). 

When the neighbor king and the prince had listened 
to the herald, they decided to go to the former palace 
of the prince and capture this wicked king, who was 
not only robbing the prince of his parents and home, 
but was also imprisoning a beautiful maiden. 

So, gathering his warriors together, the king led 
them to the captured palace and demanded that the 
wicked king surrender not only all that he had stolen, 
but himself and the kingdom. 

Of course the wicked king refused, and there was 
a terrible battle. The neighbor king finally was victor 
and the palace was again returned to the rightful 
king. 

An immediate search was made for the beautiful 
maiden, but she had disappeared. The wicked king 
refused to tell her whereabouts, and for a time there 
seemed no way to find her. 

The prince wandered through the woods about the 
palace looking for her, but in vain. He again dis- 
covered the wild rose-bush and saw that it had grown 
into a sort of hedge. Instinctively he followed the 
hedge and at last he came to an open space in the 
heart of th§ wood, and in it was a rude little cabin. 


Very cautiously the prince approached and hiding 
himself near, he waited and watched. 

Finally, his patience was rewarded. The door of 
the cabin opened, and a lady-in-waiting came out. 
She looked cautiously all about her and then spoke 
very sneeringly to someone within. 

“I am going now for the poisonous mushrooms 
and if you do not eat them, I will kill you myself.” 

Then she walked away into the wood. 

The prince hurried into the cabin and found there 
the beautiful maiden. She was even more beautiful 
than the herald had said, for her face was full of 
love and kindness. 

The prince loved her at once and resolved to save 
her at any cost. He loosened the bands that held 
her and ran with her to the shelter of the hedge. 

They followed the hedge and were soon back at 
the prince’s home. 

The neighbor king was still there, and when he 
saw the maiden he cried for joy. It was his own 
sweet daughter who had been most mysteriously 
stolen years before. She was most happy to see her 
beloved father, and so the prince left them together 
and went out to see the wicked king who was still 
imprisoned. 

When he returned, the neighbor king told him 
that for his bravery and gallantry to the princess, 
he should marry her and inherit his kingdom. The 
prince was joyous and went in search of the princess. 

He found her near the rose-bush and in her hair 
blushed the same pink rose that had nodded to the 
prince on his momentous ride. 


The princess explained that as she was traveling 
there in the wood with the wicked king, she paused 
and kissing the beautiful rose which was then a bud, 
she had whispered, 

“Oh, little flower, send me someone to deliver me 
from this wicked king!” and the rose had helped 
the prince to find and save her. 

The prince kissed the princess’ hand and said, 

“The rose is crying for happiness. See!” 

And he gently lifted the rose from her hair and 
right in the heart of it was a sparkling tear. 

That tear was the first rose-diamond and it is said 
that the princess, wishing to share her happiness, 
gave away bits of the rose-diamond, so scattering the 
loving heart of the blushing rose all through the 
world. 


59 


VI 


The Velvet Leaves 

The Little Girl was out in a field with Lady Sweet- 
heart and she had found many interesting and pretty 
things : two nests, and some flowers, and some pretty 
rocks. 

They were on their way back to the house when 
the Little Girl found a large mullein plant. She 
gathered some of the leaves and pressed them against 
her cheek, saying, 

“Oh, Lady Sweetheart, aren’t they lovely and 
velvety?” 

Lady Sweetheart agreed that they were, and said, 

“I know how they happen to be so velvety, do 
you?” 

Now of course no one knew all the wonderful 
things Lady Sweetheart knew, and the Little Girl did 
not know how the mullein plant had such soft velvety 
leaves, and so Lady Sweetheart told her. 

# * * # 

“Once, when thistles were smooth and the wild 
rose-bush was without thorns; when the violet grew 
above its leaves and the nettles were without sting, 
there was a beautiful black and gold butterfly enjoy- 
ing the beauties of them all and feasting on their 
honey. 

There was only one plant he didn’t care about— 
60 


the mullein plant. Its leaves were hard and smooth. 
They were wide, but rather ugly to look at. 

The mullein plant loved the black and golden 
butterfly and often, as the big, graceful fellow flew 
by, the mullein leaves would stretch towards him, 
always hoping that sometime the butterfly would rest 
himself upon them, or shelter himself from the wind. 
But he always flew by to some more beautiful plant 
or blossom and left the poor little mullein plant 
lonely, but always hopeful. 

One day there was great excitement among the 
flowers, for the west wind had whispered that there 
was to be a great festival in the field the very next 
day, and all the flowers must look their sweetest, 
for the god of flowers and butterflies was going to 
bestow a gift of some kind upon the most deserving. 

The roses put on their daintiest blushes and the 
violets their most coquettish shyness. All the flowers 
looked their sweetest, and each was sure the gift 
would be his. 

All? No, all but the poor little mullein plant. He 
alone was unhappy. No blushes, no coquettish manners, 
no winning way of any kind! There was no possible 
hope for him, and he could hardly keep his leaves 
from wilting for a broken root (which is of course 
the same as a broken heart to us). His leaves would 
probably have wilted if it hadn’t been for the most 
opportune appearance of a great fat grasshopper, 
who came and consoled the little plant by saying, 

“You may not be so beautiful, but I think you’d 
be useful in a storm.’* 

The morning of the festival came and after their 
dew-bath, the flowers all waited expectantly, each 
61 


hoping that the god of flowers and butterflies would 
come to them quickly. 

They waited all the morning and still he did not 
come. They were greatly puzzled, for the West wind 
always spoke the truth and surely the god of flowers 
and butterflies would come. 

Only the black and gold butterfly visited them 
however, and even he seemed to confine his visits 
to a beautiful pink rose and a dainty violet. 

Suddenly a great storm burst upon the field, and 
the butterfly was caught half way between his favor- 
ites. The rain beat down unmercifully on the beauti- 
ful gold of the butterfly, and the wind blew him 
against the stalks and he was in a most unhappy 
predicament. 

However, he managed to reach the beautiful rose- 
bush, and he tried to find shelter, saying, 

“Oh, dear, beautiful flower, shelter me. My wings 
are bedraggled and if I am not soon protected, 1 am 
sure I shall perish.” 

But the rose drew her leaves tighter about her- 
self and answered, 

“Oh, no, if I open my leaves for you, the West 
wind will blow them away. Do not bother me, I 
cannot do anything for you,” and in her anger at the 
butterfly’s attempt to shelter himself, she sent out 
thorns to prick him. 

The butterfly flew blindly back to the violet and 
begged, 

“Oh, dear, beautiful flower, shelter me. My wings 
are bedraggled, and if they are not soon protected, 
I am sure I shall perish.” 


But the violet hid her blossoms under her leaves 
and pretended not to hear. In vain the butterfly 
begged for shelter, and finally he left her and went 
over to a big thistle, again saying, 

“Oh, dear, beautiful flower, shelter me, my wings 
are bedraggled, and if I am not soon protected, I 
am sure I shall perish.” 

But the thistle answered sharply, 

“I need my leaves to shelter my stock. Go to 
some other flower.” 

The poor butterfly was nearly exhausted and he 
did not know where to turn. He dragged himself 
to the little mullein plant and once more began, 
“Oh, dear, beautiful flower — ” but before he got 
any farther the mullein leaves closed tenderly about 
him and protected and comforted him. 

When the storm passed, the flowers all looked 
about and prepared again for the visit of the god 
of flowers and butterflies. But the rose and the thistle 
were greatly mortified because they were all thorns 
and prickles and they could not get rid of them; and 
the violet could not lift her head from under her 
leaves. 

The black and gold butterfly came out from his 
shelter and balancing himself on the tallest blade of 
grass anywhere around, he spoke, saying, 

“I am the god of flowers and butterflies, and to- 
day I have found the mullein plant most deserving 
of a gift. The rose, the thistle, and the violet were 
so selfish that they would not help a poor butterfly 
in need. I was the butterfly. They must keep their 
thorns and prickles, and the violet must always hide 
her face for shame. But the dear little mullein plant, 
63 


so generous and tender, shall be dressed in velvet 
forever.’* 

And all the flowers looked and it was so.” 

* * * * 

The Little Girl drew a long breath and said, 

“Oh, Lady Sweetheart, that was the best story of 
all. I’m almost sorry I am well and must go home. 
Daddy Doctor doesn’t tell stories like yours. I sup- 
pose he’s too busy.” 

And Lady Sweetheart, holding the Little Girl close, 
answered, 

“Never mind, dear. It’s so nice you are so well 
and strong. Next time you come, I will have a lot 
more even better stories. It won’t be very long.” 


64 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



